All I wanted was to just sit in my car and wait for my girl. I don't know why I wanted that. It was just something that I thought would be nice. Though now that I have it, it seems like a breath of freedom and I know what freedom used to be. Freedom was slavery. I would know since that's how it was before I could see the truth. The truth was a harsh thing, but it enabled me to live.

I was sent to live with my Aunt and Uncle when I was one. My parents had died in a car accident supposedly. The only thing I can remember is panicked voices, laughter, a scream, and a blinding green light. I never believed it was a car accident. Never.

I never liked my biological family very much. My Aunt was the only one I could stand since I knew she had no choice. Well… then again, she did have a choice; she just never used it because she loved her family and didn't want to lose it. Ironic, really, she dumped me off at an orphanage when I was five. It was the day after my Uncle used a knife on me.

I remember the pain. I remember the panic. I remember the shame. I could have held him off, now that I think about it. I could have and should have, but I was scared. I still shiver and grow ghostly and panicky whenever I hear the name Dursley.

I never told the orphanage my real name. Harry Potter was something that I wanted to leave behind and my Aunt never told anyone my real name just the nickname she had given to me. She called me Caliban and I was Caliban from then on. I remember her saying that she loved Shakespeare's The Tempest and that's what she'd call me in private. I hold a fondness for the play since I was old enough to actually read and understand it.

I remember the orphanage quite clearly even now. I could remember that there were mean kids. There were nice kids. There were even older kids who would sometimes take someone under their wing. I was fortunate enough to have Keith Lennox. He was my first real friend.

Keith Lennox was a tall and slightly built kid of sixteen. He had coffee brown eyes and pitch black hair with a dark tan. He always wore black and he'd always outline his eyes in kohl if he could ever get hold of the stuff. Lennox had died a year after my arrival.

Drug overdose, they said. I still think of it sometimes. He never acted like he was drugged or, at least, not that I could remember. The next two months were a blur as I mourned his loss. It was my first loss considering it was a loss that I could remember.

Then I remember wanting a light when it was dark one night. I wished it and the next thing I know I'm holding a flame in the palm of my hand. I freaked and it went out. I tried it again out of curiosity and the flame reappeared. From then on, I tried to do other things. Things that never involved hurting or controlling people; I liked the idea of freedom and so gave freedom to others.

Then Orion Black came to the orphanage. It wasn't unusual for a new kid to appear, but for some reason I felt drawn by curiosity. He looked me directly in the eyes that day and I felt like I could read him inside out as I felt images enter my mind. I'm sure the same could be said for him. We became friends instantly the following night.

Orion was a bit bigger than most. No, he wasn't fat. He was a lean boy, but he had meat on him. His eyes were icy blue-gray, skin like smooth porcelain, and hair of pitch black that fell past his shoulders in a sleek tumble. He always wore dark blues and black. He also looked like my older brother since he was taller.

I was always shorter by a few inches and skinnier. I had pitch black hair that fell past my shoulders and was messy when left alone; I usually kept it pulled back into a braid. My eyes were outlined in kohl in memory of Lennox and my eyes were a bright emerald. My skin was always unbearably pale and with my looks, I looked ethereal. I wore black clothing that was baggy and my rectangular, black framed glasses that one of the workers helped get me.

Orion was withdrawn at times, I should say. Though the only thing he wasn't truly good at was showing his emotions with others. I remember the following months where Orion was off and on with his emotions. He finally broke down and sobbed. I comforted him that night.

His mother had passed away due to heartbreak. She had loved his father, but his father had disappeared before he was born. Orion mourned his mother and resented his father. He resented the man so much that he saw red every time he thought about him. Thank goodness that he rarely did.

Orion had also confessed that he could use magic. I was delighted to hear that and we soon were practicing magic together. He'd laugh at how easy I grasped everything and I'd laugh that he would take a logical method when practicing.

During our time together, we learned a great deal about our powers and each other. Orion was loud, blunt, protective, loyal, and faithful almost like a dog. I, on the other hand, was quiet, shy, often tenacious at rare times, and very quick and independent. Sometimes, Orion grew too protective when others tried to bully me and I would get into arguments with him because I didn't like being suffocated, but those were rare and few. We both, however, were very clever and street smart.

It was my second summer and Orion's first summer and both of us seven years old when we finally met one Harry Dresden. The man had hawkish features, dark hair and eyes, pale skin, and always worn wrinkly clothes under a heavy trench coat. He'd stumbled upon me while he was lurking in the alleys of London. I was practicing my fire ball when I looked up to see him gawking at me with amazement. I bolted before he or anything else could be said.

Orion accompanied me from then on and we crashed into Harry several times before we finally decided enough was enough. Our curiosity could also be blamed. We crashed into Harry at one of the closer alleys by the orphanage.

From then on we talked and talked and were soon wishing to find a home in this man. He was a professional wizard back in America in a city called Chicago. He talked of the White Council who had him working as one of their Wardens. He had been sent here in search of a troubled youth that controlled people. The Council could not have helped the poor girl and they executed her. Harry was saddened, but told us the rules of magic in a serious voice.

It was funny how we ended up having Harry visit the orphanage frequently in the morning before we were up and about. Orion found out first and raced into our room that morning, shouting in glee, "HARRY'S ADOPTING US!"

When we both turned eight years old, Harry finally was able to officially adopt us and bring us over to America and to Chicago. Harry and the workers at the orphanage asked us if we wanted to change our names to Dresden and we both immediately agreed. Orion changed his whole name over to Adam Callum Dresden. I had mine changed to Caliban Amun Dresden.

When Harry had gone away on special missions, we usually stayed with the Carpenters, Murphy, Thomas, or the boot camps of the White Council and sometimes with the local werewolf pack. We learned Latin quickly and basics of other languages during our time at boot camps. Murphy would help us learn martial arts and fighting styles. The Carpenters taught us about the church and the holy book (and under Charity Carpenter, I learned to cook and Adam to make weapons) while Thomas would rent out films to watch or help us with our homework. The werewolf pack had proven to be stiffs when it came to education, but Adam and I enjoyed learning everything they taught us.

Molly Carpenter, the eldest daughter of the Carpenters, had just finished her high school and was going to commute college while training under Harry for her apprenticeship. She had influenced us with her likes of music. I had then decided to pick up the guitar while Adam picked up the drums.

For the next following three years after we were adopted, Adam and I had learned to control our magic under Harry's tutelage. He never once gave up on us and he taught us things that were decisive. His assistant, Bob the skull, a skull that was obsessed with sex and was a wisecrack, taught us histories and theories. We never thought that there was much to learn, but we were indeed incorrect in our assumptions.

It was the first day of being out of fifth grade for the summer that we were sent letters.